Among the Kwottos of Northern Nigeria the King of Panda used to be regarded as an incarnate divinity, who had power over the elements. Nevertheless at an annual festival one of the king's slaves, a strong, handsome man, was allowed for a single day to wear a leopard's skin (the badge of royalty) and to adorn his head with a pair of buffalo horns; thus arrayed, and attended by a bodyguard of 50 men, armed with stout sticks, he used to strut proudly about the town, explaining, "I am king at this festival. Let no one dispute my will...." Meantime the real king provided him with as much beer to drink and as many slave women for concubines as he cared to ask for.

—Sir James Frazer, 'The Golden Bough'

NEW YORK—Precisely, Sir James! Isaac Hayes comes on just like a fearsome festival stand-in—even if his bodyguards are armed only with walkie-talkies, his costume is Sunset Strip African, and the ritual he performs is far more Apollo than Kwotto.

After the MC has asked for a "warm round of applause for the Number One Black Entertainer in the World," and the band has broken into the "Theme from Shaft," a black Verushka, her icy beauty accented by her gleaming bald head, stalks onto the stage. She prowls about in a red and white imitation zebra poncho, glaring at the audience. A concubine, perhaps?

Finally, she crooks her finger at stage right. A pause as the anticipation builds and then Isaac Hayes enters. Tall and broad-shouldered, he appears to be cleverly disguised as a grass hut. He moves rigidly, as if on stilts, to the woman; upon closer examination he turns out to be wearing a sort of British magistrate's wig fashioned out of straw, a long mantle of African cloth and a grass skirt. But there is no doubt that he is an imposingly strong, handsome man. He and the woman go through a routine of choreographed lasciviousness that climaxes as she tears off his mantle. He raises his bare arms as if to say, "I am king at this festival," and the crowd goes crazy.